


The Passion In Poetry

by Warm_Tea_And_A_Gay_Detective



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Poetry, Smut, k/s - Freeform, shane koyczan, some real gay shit, spirk, the premise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-21 21:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warm_Tea_And_A_Gay_Detective/pseuds/Warm_Tea_And_A_Gay_Detective
Summary: Spock and Jim have loved each other for quite a while without letting it on, being content with the happiness they bring each other by being friends. After getting pretty drunk on some sweet fruit and Vulcan ale, Spock reveals a couple secrets to Jim, most notably that he loves poetry. By quoting the poetry of Spock's favorite poet, Shane Koyczan, they begin to realize things could work out for them. This is all fluff and gay shit and there's smut but this is all so cute and I couldn't help writing something including the words of the man that brought me so much happiness. Enjoy.





	1. Chapter one: An Antecedent Event.

The way Jim and Spock elect to flirt leaves very much to the imagination. 

It was almost three Terran months ago to the day when they attended a very long diplomatic meeting and subsequent dinner party on a class L, now federation planet, near the uncharted section of Delta quadrant space, nearest to where federation space ends and the Norm arm of the galaxy begins. 

The planet was icy and almost barren of oxygen. The inhabitants survive on carbon dioxide and, like plants, produce oxygen in the exhalation of the mixture of other, more deadly gasses they produce in their respiratory cycle like cyanide. Although the race is peaceful and industrial by nature, the planet they inhabit is far from. 

Alone, almost at the end of the time they were to spend on the planet, and making acquaintance with the salad bar, the then mask-clad Spock stood whilst helping himself to the native fruits and berries. He and Kirk had been discussing the implications of the mining treaty they were to propose upon their next visit. The planets crust had large natural deposits of polydimethylsiloxane, a type of silicone the species had yet to find a use for. 

Kirk came up behind him with an empty salad plate and continued their conversation as if they hadn’t stopped talking for a solid 30 minutes to better watch the behaviour of the species they were now employed to protect from threats, hoping to better understand how their actions could be interpreted by the peaceful race. 

They shared a small smile and Spock pointed out a small pile of gooseberry-like plants that he thought Kirk would appreciate before replying to the unheard prompt of continuing conversation. They had both had time to think of this whilst alone and taking notes at the conference, but Spock was still eager to hear his friend’s opinion on the matter. 

“Do you not think it would be unwise to peruse the goods if they later discover ways to use if and begin to suspect we, quote-unquote, ‘played them’?” Spock inquired, resting his elbow carelessly on the edge of the salad bar as his plate sat on the glass cover, taking one hand into the other and sighing through the confines of the respirator. Despite the oxygen crystals in the mask, the air in the room was still thick and heavy, making the whole crew tired and irritable. And although the cold temperature and heavy breaths effected Spock the most, he showed it the least. 

Kirk smiled and ran a hand-full of frozen phalanges up his face and through his hair before returning them to his pocket. “I suspect that if they discover ways to use it the mining could stop. We would still have the material we had mined and, once discovering it’s use, we could teach them more efficient ways of refinement and production to counter-balance the years we spent wringing the planet’s crust of the material.” Kirk said, raising his mask to insert a small berry into his mouth. His eyes widened for a moment and he beamed a smile through the mask that Spock could see by the wrinkling around his eyes. “It tastes like chocolate!” 

Spock freely smiled under his mask, taking a berry to do the same and nodding in recognition of the Captain’s deduction of flavour before replying. “Perhaps then they will wonder why we didn’t step in and teach them uses for it in the beginning. We could be seen as thieves, Jim.” Kirk couldn’t help another smile at the use of his name, and although only a small smirk this time, it had the same happy implications. 

Taking their plates back to the table they shared with their crew, they took the seats by their name tags, which were sadly opposite each other at the two heads of the table, Kirk murmured a small “shit” of indignation. “Perhaps we could trade equipment and teachings for some of the material itself, instead of just paying them for the exports. Perhaps They would be more appreciative of the help than the money.” Kirk informed, raising a questioning eyebrow to his friend in hopes of a reply. 

“Indeed” Spock said, lifting his mask and taking a small bite out of a rather large piece of fruit that looked like a grapefruit. It was rude to eat with utensils by the planets customs unless one was sipping water from a public fountain, then cups or spoons (yes, spoons) were customary to carry around. Spock personally found it rude to eat without them, but figured his personal discomfort in the matter was less of a priority than making a good impression. He huffed out a breath in surprise at the flavour, a homely, more fragrance than taste. “This reminds me of Soltar.” Spock said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Although, much sweeter.”

They continued their conversation well through the evening, switching topic a total of eleven times, relative to who’s company they were in. On their way back to the ship, they were given replicator data for the native foods that they were to give to science staff on the Enterprise for adding, not only to the ships bank, but for adding to the federations bank as well. 

They arrived back at the ships stroke of midnight, and instead of taking leave to their respective quarters, an unspoken and very shared want to continue the evening’s festivities played in the air between the Captain and his First Officer like soft Cardassian mating music. Without a work Kirk followed Spock back to his quarters where they could continue talking about nothing and everything all at once, a conversation like fine wine that always aged and never got old, smooth and soft on the body and brain and with an aroma that enticed even the most seasoned of experts.

“I wish I could have more of those berries, Spock. They were by far the nicest thing they had at the entire dinner.” 

“Indeed, it was also nice to be seated at a table where I wasn’t the only one partaking in a vegetarian option. Their food was adequate but rather sweet, perhaps a bit too much for my tastes.” Kirk thought for a moment before replying. 

“Well, maybe we should hold more dinners with vegetarian species. They’re usually peaceful when they’re herbivores, case and point.” The Captain said with a smile as he took a seat on Spock’s meditation rug he had left out before the meeting. Spock could tell he wasn’t only talking about the species they encountered tonight and smiled as he turned away to face the replicator. He inserted the data card and typed in his twenty-seven-digit authorisation code. He would only need it to replicate it the first time, and as he did they would be automatically stored to the Starfleet records. 

“What is it that you would like?” Spock asked, making sure to take care of his Captain’s wants before himself.

“What were those gooseberry-type ones called…?” He sat and thought for a second, Spock knew his Captain preferred to do everything for himself, even though he had the name up on the screen now to synthesize. “Umm, Shi-Shingtagar berries?” Spock nodded and pressed a button to replicate a small vine of them, and apparently, they grew much more like grapes than gooseberries. 

Spock also made a small selection plate for himself, opting for the ones that reminded him of the flavour of his home-planet’s food. Handing a small bowl to Kirk, they both sat crossed-legged on the floor and began to silently indulge in the elegant food laid out in front of them, happily sharing each other’s despite his cultures stigmatism against it. Kirk was his best friend, so he didn’t much mind. They enjoyed the silent company for a while until Spock began feeling light-headed and drowsy. They had had much more of a chance to eat this time, without respirators having to be removed and recalibrated every time they were, so Spock had consumed much more.

He silently stood, rather unsteady, and walked over to the replicator to check the data on the fruits. Apparently, what earth would call ‘refined’ and complex sugars existed naturally, and in high quantity in the planets food, in all of it. The taste perception of the planet had evolved in such a way that they barely tasted it at all, but the kinds of sugars were also muted on the taste buds of Vulcans. Spock hadn’t been aware of the amount he was consuming, and instead of caring he replicated another small selection plate to bring back with him so he didn’t get up for no reason. 

Once he sat down and put the plate on the floor, Kirk spoke. “What’d you get up for?” he asked, picking a small leaf from his front teeth. He could see right through him. Spock must have shown some semblance of surprise on his face because Jim then added, smirking. “There’s plenty left, seems illogical to get another.” 

Without a word Spock once again arose and walked to the replicator, punching in a different authorisation code as a verification of his age and who he was before a gorgeous bottle of Vulcan Ale materialised and he began and walking it over to the Captain with a glass. 

“The contents of these berries work on the Vulcan nervous system the same way ethanol does with humans. I was unaware until I began to feel the effects and so I thought it unfair to be… ‘drunk’ on my own. This is from my personal banks, a recipe my mother helped create.” Kirk said nothing, only smiled. He poured his commanding officer out a glass and they partook in the various forms of intoxicating substance as they talked about the newest discovery of tectonic-plate like structures being discovered throughout the fabric of the universe, resulting in the formation of both blackholes and wormholes.

About three hours later they found themselves listening to old Earth jazz whilst sat up against the wall. “You know what, Jim?” Spock started. “I think you’re the best Captain the ‘fleet has ever seen and it’s such a shame they always treat you like…. Like…”

“Like shit.” Kirk chimed in with a laugh. They both sat there for another few minutes until Kirk could think of something to say. He kept going through it again and again until he was sure he wasn’t going to die if he actually said it, and Spock could sense that it was something important and therefore waited. “Look, Spock.” He said, suddenly, and unbelievably (based on the two bottles he had consumed) sober. “There’s few people in this universe that I’d ever even consider spending this kind of time with, and only one I could do it with with such ease and little remorse. You’re special to me, Spock, probably more so than you’ll ever realise-“ Kirk stopped and sighed, thinking about where he wanted to go with this, but before he could continue, Spock chimed in. 

“I understand Jim, you have never learned how to erect shields around that human mind of yours. Whenever you and my father are in the same room I just know he can read you like an open book. Now-.” And that was it. That’s all Kirk needed to hear to know his companion felt the same. He sighed and leant back against the wall before sliding his head onto the shoulder of his friend. Bliss. 

He could feel the heat radiating through the skin of the Vulcan, he could hear the slow, light pulse pumping beautiful green blood through his veins, and more importantly, he could feel the love flowing from one mind to another; tingles up and down his spine and swirling in his mind like a drug with power he had never had the God-given pleasure of experiencing. Spock continued. 

“Would you like to know something about me?” Spock asked, taking Kirk's hand in a very human way and resting it on his leg. Kirk nodded, smiling intensely at the joined fingers. He could feel through his contact that Spock thought what he was going to say would be funny, so he listened intently, waiting for the joke. “I. Love. Poetry.” Spock said, giggling slightly, and with that Jim’s grin grew wider than it ever had before. 

“Tell me, Mr Spock, “ Kirk said through his smiling teeth and rosy cheeks, “What kind of poetry do you like?”

“Spoken word, mainly a 21st century Terran spoken word artist by the name of Shane Koyczan. My mother used to recite his poetry all the time at my father, proverbial in nature, his responses would always be the same."Kaiidth” he would always say, as if he was perfect and never needed to change the way he treated people, Vulcan or not. The poem “Juggernaut” reminds me a lot of him, would you like to hear it?” Spock asked, slurring only a few syllables near the end of his sentence. Kirk knew that for that to happen Spock must be completely shit-faced, and so he agreed. “Computer…. Play ‘Shane Koyczan’s Juggernaut.” Spock asked and the poem started. 

“He would say… be still. Be still, my boy. Never son.-“….. And that was the beginning of an entirely different evening, one where they shared their love for things, and each other, all to a poetic ambience.

And there began to bloom the seed of romance, one based entirely on the words of a man turned to dust by time. A man who inspired a change in the world of his era and would hopefully do again aboard the Enterprise.


	2. Chapter 2: The Student

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all appreciate the work of this amazing poet, Go to his youtube or itunes and listen to everything he has. I basically live by his poem "Instructions for a bad day" hopefully he can help those of you going through a tough time, lots of love, Jay. x
> 
> (all poetry quotes were supposed to be in italics but it didn't work, when they talk on the bridge, whet they say are quotes from the poem too)
> 
> The poem: https://youtu.be/6kdH_TtquZU  
> His official Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/ShaneKoyczan

It was three months ago when they last talked like that, when they last touched like that, and it wasn’t until now that either of them had said a word about it. This morning, however, kirk woke up to a note attached to the mirror in he and Spock’s shared bathroom. What an odd place to put it, but obvious at least. It was a note from Spock, but not written by him. In fact, it was a quote. The handwriting was of a beauty the captain had never seen. Although he had communicated with Spock through text before, it had never been with his own writing. Computers text did little justice to convey the absolute beauty that accompanied the perfect lettering laid before him, it was a work of art. It should be hung in a gallery alongside Claude Monet, T’rita, L'ogros Vrozoth and Taammirc.

It read:

“I don’t believe in them but,  
somewhere there are gods.  
Hiding inside of their own heads  
using all of their might trying to stop their own eardrums  
from pounding out the sound of your name.” -The student

Jim smiled to himself. There was so much more to this note than the words written on it, so much hidden meaning and so many implications on this small piece of paper that read out to Jim like an ode to love, an ode to happiness, an ode to the object of his every waking thought for as long as he had known Spock. For as long as he had truly been alive. 

To Spock, the poem read: ‘you are my everything, you resonate through my brain and smash into my ear drums so often that my life plays to the chorale of your name. You’re like a bird song, so beautiful and alluring, you are the sweet nightingale singing me awake every morning and the wise owl rocking me to sleep at night. I live my life for you, and I live my love through you. I think it’s about time I showed you.’

To kirk, this was all he needed, something to get started, something to work with. This was his confession. 

Taking the small piece of paper, Kirk placed it in the drawer next to his bedside table and took a piece from his pile of Starfleet bleach-white sticky-notes. He’d been listening to Shane religiously since that evening, hoping one day to casually slip a quotation into conversation with his First officer. He had no trouble remembering the whole poem verbatim, and so wrote. He stuck it to the side of the mirror closest to Spock’s quarters and left for the beginning of his shift.

When spock got back to his quarters, he wondered if Jim had even seen the note. He’d been acting like usual all morning, not even a hint of anything different; no extra smiling, no extra eye contact, nothing to show he had read it. Maybe he hadn’t looked in the mirror, but Spock was sure the bathroom to be the one place, besides bed, that Kirk would go all day. Walking into the bathroom his eyes caught the soft white piece of paper that had fallen from the mirror and onto the floor. Damned Starfleet sticky notes. Maybe he can just put it back up, give it another go. 

Spock frowned slightly at himself and bent over to pick it up and place it back on the mirror, but as he turned it over in his fingers he saw the handwriting to be different. It was bold and broad, regularly sized but with short, disconnected letters. Unlike his slender and elegant handwriting, to Spock, this screamed ‘Jim,’ and so he took it back to his room to give it a read. 

After getting changed into sleeping robes, he sat in lotus position on his bed and took the small white piece of paper into his hands from his bedside table. Closing his eyes, he ran his fingers over the ridges caused by the fountain pen Spock had given Jim for his birthday two years prior, spock already knew what it said, but couldn’t help re-reading and re-reading it over and over until every molecule of ink on the paper was committed to memory and he could finally look away. He placed it in the drawer and laid back beneath the sheets. 

As he closed his eyes, it was burned into retinas:

“You are lightning  
trying to tame thunder  
leaving split second scars against the sky  
as if you were breaking the skin of something that won’t die” -The student

To Jim, this read: “You are the light, the beauty, the power. You are trying to ‘tame’ me, the noise, the warning, the fright. You deserve better, you deserve more, but we come in unison. When people see you, they wait for me, knowing that when we’re together a wrath of god pours down from the sky. You’re instantaneous, you’re all around me, a miracle of nature. You linger in the air with the crisp scent of ozone, yet the wounds you leave there are momentous. Every time I see you gleam it’s gone, and it’s left me wondering if that kind of wound is fatal. It hasn’t been yet, but maybe that’s because you never give me enough time to recover from my amazement in your presence.” 

Spock let the words circle his mind with the wrath of a tyrannical leader, let it punish and demand from him without complexity because he knew he had waited too long, he knew he should have initiated this sooner. Once he was done punishing himself for his misgivings he accepted the possibility of where this could all end up and he finally let himself sleep. 

Spock woke up early enough to write Jim out a note before he headed to the labs for the day. He debated whether or not he should continue with his studies today or be present on the bridge alongside his captain, but decided that it would be best if he crunched numbers and took his mind off of the whole ordeal, and so he wrote. ‘I am split between two worlds, my mind being in possession of both. I never learned how to do this, and so every time I try I end up unsuccessful. My father told me to dim my gleam so that others will never need to concern themselves with my issues, and so I avoid it. My world left a bruise on my compassion, on my love and charity, I am unaware with the ways it works and although I try, although I fight the urges to suppress who I am, I can never keep them away for long enough, it’s a second nature. I give in. I surrender myself to my hubris, believing it will not hurt if I tell myself this is the way it is supposed to be and that I know of love as nothing other than this. But… I don’t know love.’

The note read:

“My first instinct  
is the same as my second  
strongly reinforced as if by diamond sheeting  
that donated its glimmer to charity so that it can look dull and tough  
A shine now scuffed  
as if the world left a bruise on light  
I fight my instinct long enough to realize that I won’t win  
I give in  
surrendering to an impulse  
somewhat believing that my imprisonment will not involve torture  
if I can confess everything I know  
I know… nothing.” -The student

Leaving it under the edge of Jim’s toothpaste, Spock took to his work for the day and tried his hardest to forget all about it, knowing that he would not be the only one trying. Only once the day is over does he get back to realise there is no reply, and no other the morning after, and so spock waits. 

On his station the second morning Spock spots a small, folded piece of white paper stuck carefully to the glass of his console screen with his name written on the underside so as no other person would read it. Spock knew the crew respected each other’s privacy and so the note would only have been read by him. 

Written, almost in a hurry, sat the wonderous words: ‘I know nothing of true love eather, but we can take it slowly, as slowly as you need. You are bright, and I will help you control it of it’s what you need, but I will support you in your passions and urge the gleam out of you like a lighthouse pulling me back from the somewhere I cannot escape. I regret the way I have loved, I regret the love that I accepted because it’s what I thought I deserved, and although its siren song echoes through my mind like poison, you show me I deserve better. Sometimes I do wonder though if everything I’ve seen and been through has brought me to here, with you. But the thought distorts in my mind as it bounces around my brain and I can never really be certain, not of you let alone my own sanity.’

“I bring an emptiness to your need  
like a dog laying a skeleton at your feet  
bone by bone  
I lay stone all around you in a circle,  
as if any moment you will burst into flame  
and warm us long enough so that I can tell you my ghost story  
But part of me still haunts my memory  
It throws chairs against my mirrored mind  
cracking the reflections in which I once thought I would find answers  
if I reflect long enough” -The student

Spock stood and walked over to his captain, standing at his side with his hands behind his back as he watched Jim input some comment about needing more back-up dylithium crystals for the engine room because apparently more than one can never be needed on a five-crystal system. 

Spock waited for his cue of the captain no longer typing, yet not moving his eyes from the screen. As Jim put his hand on the console, Spock spoke. “There will be answers” he breathed. ‘We’ll figure out together.’

“But like mail on a Sunday” the captain said “None came.” ‘I have been promised so much and given so little, can you promise that you’ll try? That this’ll work? Spock turned and took a seat at his station, but only after taking a hold of Jim’s hand and letting his shields down. The subsequent tingle that rushed up the arms and spines of both of them projected a promise. To try, yes, but more like a promise of a balls-to-the-walls kind of love that would take them both by storm. 

That evening, Spock walked into the bathroom for a shower to see a small plate of Shingtagar berries waiting by the sink with a note. “Want to play chess tomorrow?” it read, and spock smiled.

After taking his shower, Spock synthesised a bottle of his mother’s Vulcan Ale and left it by the sink with another note taped to it for the captain to find in the morning. Although Jim was the only other person on the ship that could have synthesised it if he really wanted to, he hadn’t. He had been patient. Perhaps it was time to reward him.  
As kirk took the bottle reading “see you this evening,” another, longer note fell from the worksurface to the floor. 

“So I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up  
I stand on mountain tops believing that avalanches will teach me to let go  
I know nothing  
but I am here to learn”- The student

And for the first time in this whole exchange, what was written was exactly what was meant.


	3. Chapter 3: Pulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I know like no one is reading this but anyways I haven't written anything cause its mock exam season and I'm drowning in self pity and despair, but here's some sex for ya'll

The night they had played chess was filled with sparks. Spock lost because he was so encompassed by the soft glow in Jim’s eyes, the desire that played at the corner of his mouth like a single piece of string being tugged on every time he heard his own name. The game was a long one though, and it only really ended when they stopped giving each other “fuck me” eyes and actually made love. 

It was slow and passionate at first, they leisurely undressed each other like it was a game of ‘who will snap first.’ Between suppressed moans and whimpers of pleasure Spock lost that game too when he hungrily threw a naked Jim on the bed and licked the chocolate Jim had sensually fed him from his lips. They were both a lot less drunk than they had been before, but had indulged just for the sake of an experience to share without an air of awkwardness washing over them as they played, it was something to do. 

Every time the silence dragged on Kirk would take a sip from his glass or gently pop a berry into the mouth of his companion, an action spock took advantage of by sucking on the pad of the finger he could catch first. The night was filled with tension that could be knitted into a two-person jacket to finally bring them close enough together for some action, and when Spock decided to suck on a lolly-pop Kirk decided that’s where the line had to be drawn or he was going to lose his marbles. 

Their first human kiss was deep and filled with fire, firm lips being sucked and pulled between teeth, the pink and chartreuse hues of their love flowering on their faces like blood spilt onto snow; a warm against the cold, a fire against the ice, an unrelenting passion against the harrowing loneliness. They poured themselves into each other like waterfalls, casting rainbows against the backdrop of the midnight-sky that laced the captains almost lightless room. Warm spice scented candles glowed from the sides of the bed, desk and rec-table filling the room with a Vulcan aphrodisiac that drove Spock fucking wild. The light cast uneven shadows against the men’s bodies as they explored, each thinking the other to be an absolute masterpiece that belonged only in the eyes of a god, even though neither believed in one. 

Each exploratory kiss up and down the others body was like a rush of rapture, purely and simply, it was bliss. A bliss so deep-rooted in their nature that it felt like they had finally come home from a long vacation and were caught off guard by a scent that could only mean they’d been there before, like they belonged there, and they wondered if this is what they smelt like to others when they handed out a hug. They never really realised how lost they were until they were found, and they were found. 

Wrapped in each other’s arms, the gentle pumping and grinding of each body on the other brought them to an explosive, unified ecstasy of both the body and the mind. Their huffing and moaning and cries of pleasure echoed throughout the ship like it was displaying itself, like no one had ever even thought of this level of intimacy between two beings before, like it was something to be displayed and cherished and erected in a gallery. Their expansive orgasm filled the room like the soundtrack to the movie of life, it echoed and resonated through them like vibrations alerting them that this was the only place they’d ever need to be, on the tail end of rhapsody.

After they came they didn’t dare move, their heavy breaths floating through the stark, dry air and settling on the bed around them, mixing with the pleasure that seeped through their pores as if it were the only way to not explode from the sensation. As their respiration settled and evened, Jim lay playing with the dishevelled mess of his lover’s hair, proudly knowing he was the one to make a mess of the pristine first officers inky locks. 

It was only once they awoke that they parted, first spending a few hours cradled in each other’s arms before sharing a shower, they got dressed in their respective rooms and left through their own doors, knowing the hallways would be busy at that time of the morning. They smiled at one another and walked to the bridge together in silence, occasionally brushing their hands together as they walked before separating on the bridge to their stations. 

Although avoiding each other the whole day, it wasn’t their intention, they had work to attend to. Spock had been called away from the bridge for a private call with his father about an up and coming event on his home world that would take him away from his duties, and Jim, for a few solid weeks. Why would his cousin get bonded now? Why so suddenly and why had he not been informed months in advance, he didn’t even know they were seeing someone and he sure knew Pon Farr was not the cause. Perhaps he was expected to remember the fact that some distant relative he had only heard the name of once whilst eleven was and had been engaged in a relationship of which he had never been informed and was now, out of courtesy and because of his family’s importance on Vulcan, being forced to attend. 

 

A few months had passed since the time they first made love and their relationship had blossomed and grown into such a magnificent beast that it deserved it’s own planet to enjoy and enrich, and although the two of them knew each other, body and mind, more intimate than anyone had known each of them before, their relationship was new and they had many hurdles yet to overcome and many more things to know about one another. 

The event was creeping ever closer, he had only a week to pack his belongings before he was to be dropped off at the nearest Starfleet outpost for transportation to Vulcan, and although he knew it to be illogical, he needed to spend all the time with Jim. He was so suddenly overcome by a desire to stay, a desire to ignore the invitation and spend time at home, on the Enterprise, with his captain.

The next six nights were spent in the arms of his lover, in the careful touch of the one man in the entire universe that made him feel like the steady breathing of sleep was a blanket against the piercing, icy, passionless planet he called home. He knew when he arrived he’d have to play the game, it was always about playing the game. Logic was merely a control and compartmentalisation of emotion, everyone feels emotion, even Vulcans, but Spock’s mind was so suddenly overcome with them that he didn’t realise just how hard it would be this time to wrestle with them and win. How lonely he would feel.

Alone on the shuttle bay with Jim, tears began welling in his eyes. He knew Jim could see them but he said nothing. The soft caress against his face was enough reassurance to know that the time wouldn’t be as long as it felt to be and that Jim would be waiting for him, right here, when he returned. Not a word was uttered, not a goodbye was shared. This wasn’t a goodbye after all, and only a short time apart. 

But with that short time apart, Spock knew he was leaving a part of himself behind. What he had worked years to suppress and hide was finally standing before him, he had finally gotten all he wanted, and he had to leave it here. Talk about perfect timing. 

He meditated the entire journey there and thought only of his father’s disapproval, but when he arrived he was surprised by his father’s warm nature and kind disposition, like he knew. His mother gave him a hug, like usual, and they spent the first day getting re-acquainted with the passing events since he last visited his planet. Spock was informed of the dress code for the opening dinner for the event and donned his best robe, attending and being seated alone, as T’pring had chosen to bond with Stonn who she was attending the dinner with. Michael and Sybok were off-planet attending a diplomatic earth-vulcan dinner and exploring new planets on a Vulcan science vessel respectively, and they were either too busy or too distant to attend, it made Spock wonder why he had not used such an excuse. 

Spock was in a complete funk, tired and irritated. He left the dinner early saying he still had duties to attend to, and so took it upon himself to mediate some more until he actually felt like his mind was clear. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a call with Jim due to the distance between his planet and the Enterprise, he elected to send a cryptic message, knowing Uhura would intercept it before it arrived directly to Jim. Considering most of these interactions had been rather cryptic in nature it wasn’t off colour for them both. 

The game they were playing with Shane’s poetry hadn’t stopped since it started, they would often use quotes in casual conversation that, to them, would stand out like a sore thumb among the normal sentences, but to others would go blissfully unnoticed. 

Although it was all fun, there was always an inkling of truth behind each line that could only be likened to an alternatively worded and rather timid extreme declaration of affection, and right now that was all Spock needed. 

Spock wrote ‘I’ve always been uncertain of myself and those with which I interact, and it’s been so long that I’m more comfortable with uncertainty than being grounded. In fact, I’m so used to it at this point that I’ve settled against the pillars of my mind and watched as uncertainty passed me by with a smile akin to an old friend. You remind me of home so much it almost feels like you always have been, and I never knew a mind could feel so complete within itself until I met you. I keep having to pinch myself to check if its all real, like you’re so malleable and aqueous you could slip between my fingers at any moment and I’d never be whole again. Despite this I worry you know not what you mean to me, and even after years of such a strong connection you’re only just waking up to a vision I’ve been holding onto for what feels like an eternity. Although there’s pains in your past and failures from people once in my current position, I promise to treat you gently. You’re so encompassing that sometimes I forget to take the time to appreciate the very flesh beneath my fingers, that sometimes I forget how precious what you’re made of is, as if your skin is woven gold and your eyes such dazzlingly precious gems. I forget how lucky I am and that I finally get such a wholesome feeling that I’m afraid to take it for granted. But, understand this is new to me too and I am doing my absolute best. 

“My flag is a traffic light  
And at night it glows red and green  
And I’ve seen everywhere  
So I guess in that sense the road really is my home  
And I’ve got poem after poem of what it was like to miss a home-cooked meal  
Of what it was like to wake up and feel my arm draped over your absence  
Because I miss breathing in your skin like incense  
And I bet you never knew that when I’m sleeping beside you, I wake up to make sure I’m holding you  
You feel like a mountain that doesn’t know it’s being climbed  
As your breath is timed  
With the in and out of mine  
I rub my hand up your spine like it was the centre line of a highway  
With no stop signs  
Hit the intersection where your shoulders meet your neck  
And past the car wrecks of past boyfriends  
Who parallel parked on dead ends  
And I just hope your skin lends me an extra mile  
So I can slow down  
Take a while to admire the landscape  
And drape my arm over your being there this time  
When it comes to your skin  
I’m a drunk driver  
Just trying to walk a straight line” -Pulse


End file.
